He passes on his doubts to Trip and Wayne. “So we came here for nothing?” Trip asks.
“We can at least put the kids down here with a few of the women to supervise them,” Hunter says. The problem with that will be choosing who stays with the kids and who has to find somewhere else to go. “There are hotels near the airport we can use for the others. Or there’s the Academy north of town.”
“Still seems like a gyp,” Trip says. “I thought this place would be a lot bigger.”
“Me too,” Wayne says. He shakes his head. “Soon as we brought those planes, they were probably going to kick most of us out.”
“Maybe. The way it worked out for them, it’s probably better you didn’t make it here.”
“Yeah, no kidding.”
An access tunnel leads to the equipment that keeps the place running. Hunter isn’t an engineer, but it all seems to be working well enough. They would need Carl Sherwood to come up here and give it all a once-over to make sure.
They find the only zeeb in the place when they get to the radio room. A young man in green fatigues lunges at Hunter the second he opens the door. Hunter doesn’t have time to get his knife out; he just squeezes off a burst from the M4 that takes off the zombie’s head like the general in the kitchen.
Hunter kicks the body away from him and then checks the radio room for anyone else. Not seeing anyone, he lowers his rifle. “I guess they missed one,” he grumbles.
He steps over the body to go over to the radio. It’s definitely an old model, probably from when the facility was first built. On the console is a notebook with various frequencies and code phrases written in black ink. He notes one frequency for “Facility X.” He’s not sure what that is; maybe it’s where the government holds all the aliens and UFOs.
There’s a second notebook, a log of calls made. On the log are more references to Facility X. It looks like before he died, the radioman placed a call to Facility X twice a day. Hunter jumps a little when Wayne brushes up against him. “You find something?”
Hunter explains about Facility X. “What do you think that is?” Trip asks.
“It could be a second bunker,” Hunter says. “Maybe this was for the VIPs and the other was for everyone else. It would explain why they wanted all those planes despite having nowhere to put them here.”
“If that’s true, how do we find it?” Wayne asks.
“How about we ask them,” Hunter says. He sits down in the radioman’s chair and then starts to fiddle with the knobs and buttons until he hears a squeal of static. He tunes the radio to the frequency indicated in the notebook. There’s an old-fashioned microphone for him to speak into. “Facility X? This is Cheyenne Mountain. Come in, over.”
There’s nothing but static for about a minute. Hunter is starting the message over again when a man’s voice interrupts him. “Where the hell have you been? We haven’t heard from you in months.”
“There were some equipment issues,” Hunter lies. No sense telling them yet that everyone who was here is dead. Hunter motions for Wayne to bend down by the microphone. “I’ve got someone here you’ve probably been waiting for.”
He hands the microphone to Wayne, who says, “This is Commander Edward Wayne of the USS George Washington. We were assigned to crate up our planes and bring them here. We made it a little late. There doesn’t seem to be anywhere to put the stuff here. We thought maybe you could help us out.”
“If this is really Commander Wayne, what’s the password?”
Wayne puts a hand over the microphone to mutter a curse. He rubs his temple with his other hand as he thinks. Finally he takes his hand off the microphone to say, “X-Ray, Charlie, Delta Eight Niner.”
There’s another long pause and then the voice comes back, “That’s right. General Armstrong should have given you your orders on where to take the stuff.”
“He probably would have, but he ate a bullet. Over.”
“Shit,” the voice on the other end growls. “Look, they’re supposed to take you and the stuff over here.”
“Where?”
“I can’t tell you. This frequency isn’t secure enough.”
“Who do you think is listening in?”
“Could be almost anyone.” The voice is silent for a few seconds before he says, “Check with the others. Maybe they know something—”
“They all ate bullets too. The only one left was the guy in the radio room and he’d turned.”
“Shit,” the voice says again. “Well, check around and see if they wrote it down or something. I’ll see what we can do. Check back in twenty.”
“Understood. Over.”
The radio goes dead. Wayne shakes his head. “Looks like it’s time for a treasure hunt.”
***
They split up to ransack the entire bunker. Hunter tries the living room first, taking off the couch cushions and pillows to search inside of them. There’s almost no chance any information would be hidden in there, but if the general did go nuts and kill everyone, he could be capable of anything. Hunter taps the walls with his knuckles to search for any hidden rooms or safes that might be used for storing valuable information.
The living room turns out to be a bust. Hunter tries the kitchen next. He opens the various drawers and cabinets as well as the refrigerators and freezers. There is still plenty of food in the cabinets, fridges, and freezers, so that must not have been the reason for the mass suicide—or executions. Hunter looks down at the bodies and then sighs, knowing what he has to do.
He starts with searching the president’s pockets. He comes up with a wallet, keys, and a deck of playing cards from Air Force One, but nothing about secret bunkers. He tries the First Lady and the Cabinet secretaries next, again coming away empty. He has done plenty of scavenging in the last two years, but this is the first time he has really felt like a ghoul.
The last body is what remains of General Armstrong. Hunter goes through the man’s wallet, but finds nothing of interest. In the front right pocket, though, he comes upon a slip of paper. On the paper are written coordinates. Hunter can’t be sure it’s where the mysterious Facility X is located, but it seems a good bet.
Wayne is in one of the bedrooms, looking through a desk. Hunter shows him the slip of paper. Wayne asks, “Where’s that?”
“Not sure. There has to be a map around here somewhere.”
“Maybe. It’s better than anything I’ve got.”
They find Trip in the showers. Wayne raises an eyebrow. “You think they might have scribbled it on the bathroom wall?”
“Nah, man. I thought maybe there was a secret passage or something. It was worth a shot, right?”
“Right,” Hunter says, thinking of his search in the living room. He holds up the slip of paper. “I found this on the general. You see a map?”
“I think there’s some in the radio room,” Trip says.
They return to the radio room to find Trip is right about the maps. Hunter takes one out of a cubbyhole; with Trip’s help he spreads it out to its full length. He lets Wayne trace the coordinates with his finger to find the location. “You’ve got to be kidding,” he mumbles.
“Where is it?”
“Devils Tower.”
“Where’s that?” Trip asks.
“Wyoming,” Wayne says. “You ever see Close Encounters of the Third Kind?”
“What’s that?”
“You damned kids today,” Wayne grumbles.
“It was a movie from before our time,” Hunter says. “Devils Tower is a flat-topped mountain. The movie used it as a site for an alien landing.”
“And that’s where this other place is?”
“Looks like it,” Hunter says. He shakes his head. “We better go call them back on the radio. Tell them to expect us in a couple of days.”
“Days? You could fly your plane up there—”
“They think we have the crated planes with us. We’ll take that truck in the parking lot and the Hummers. Fill them with all the women we
can stuff in there. The kids we can leave here with a few of the women.”
“That’s got to be hundreds of miles,” Wayne says. “And unless you’re planning on going around, you’d have to go through Denver. From what I heard, it isn’t all that friendly.”
“It is if you have enough money,” Hunter says. He claps Wayne on the shoulder. “You get on the horn to Facility X. Trip and I can go see if those vehicles will start.”
As he starts back for the parking lot, Hunter can’t help letting out a weary sigh. It doesn’t seem like anything can be easy about this.
Chapter 29
Having already been to Mile High, Hunter knows what they’ll need more than anything is money. They scavenge as much gold, silver, and jewelry as they can around the city to pay their way through the various “tolls” on the highway. In some ways it would be easier to just go around Denver, but it would cost them at least a day of traveling and the smaller highways have even more potential to get stuck amongst a pack of zeebs.
While they’re scavenging in the city, Hunter breaks into a sporting goods store for some rock climbing gear. “What’s that for?” Casey asks him.
“So I can climb down Devils Tower.”
“Why would you do that?”
“That way I can follow the trucks from the air to provide support.”
“Oh. That makes sense. But can’t you just land near the mountain?”
“Maybe. It’s always better to be prepared.”
“Were you a Boy Scout?” she teases.
“No, but it was something my dad always said to me: ‘Up in the air is not the time to realize you forgot something.’ It’s why he always made sure I used the bathroom before we went up.”
“Now you’re joking.”
“I kid you not. One time the bathroom at the airfield was being cleaned so I had to piss behind the hangar.”
Casey shakes her head. “There’s so much I don’t know about you.” She gets on her toes to kiss him in a much more passionate way than when they’re around Polly. “I hope I get the chance to find out.”
“Me too. Have you thought about it?”
“I’m going with you.”
Hunter rubs the back of his neck as he tries to think of a polite way to phrase this. “It is nice having you around, but it might be easier if I didn’t have to worry about you being safe.”
When her eyes narrow, he knows he didn’t phrase it right. “I can take care of myself, Mr. Sky Ghost.”
“Is that why I keep rescuing you?”
She slaps him hard enough to make him wince. As she turns on her heel to stomp away, he knows he deserved the slap. He has had to rescue Casey at least three times, but it’s not like she’s a helpless damsel-in-distress. She did keep Polly alive on her own for almost two years. She might have gone on longer if he hadn’t entered her life, stirring up the zeebs in Crystal Harbor and then bringing her back to Snowcap Mountain.
He catches her before she can get back to their stolen car. “I’m sorry. That was a stupid thing to say.”
“You’re damned right it was.”
“You probably would have been better off without me. You and Polly would probably still be safe in Crystal Harbor.”
“Crystal Harbor wasn’t safe. The Seabirds would have taken us both if not for you.” She takes his hand to give it a squeeze. “You tried to do something, to give us a normal life again. I don’t regret that. Neither does Polly.”
For the moment all seems forgiven, but he still can’t shake a cold lump in the pit of his stomach at the thought of what might happen on the road. There are so many things that could go wrong and after already losing Casey once, he doesn’t want it to happen again.
“If you want to go, I can’t stop you,” he says, “but I’ll do my damnedest to keep you safe.”
“I know you will.”
He just hopes that will be enough.
***
Sylvia and twenty other women stay with the kids in Cheyenne Mountain. There should be enough food, water, and oxygen to last them a while. If anything does go wrong, Max is also staying with them; he can get them out in the Il-76 if needed.
The half-ton truck and two Humvees from the bunker set out from the airport with Hunter flying cover in the Harrier. Since it’s hard even for the Harrier to fly at fifty miles an hour, he scouts the route ahead of the convoy. Once he uses the Harrier’s cannons to blast aside a group of wrecked cars.
The noise of the engines brings out any zeebs in the area. This is good in a way as it lets him pick them off before the convoy can run into them. The bad thing is he might run out of ammo for the cannon pods before they reach Mile High.
It takes four hours for the convoy to grind its way up the highway, to the suburbs of Denver. Hunter hovers over the convoy as it reaches the first roadblock. He can see thugs in military-style uniforms pointing up at him. Some are aiming their assault rifles, though if they want a firefight, he can make sure it doesn’t go well for them.
He isn’t sure what Trip and Wayne say to the thugs, but a small bag is passed from the lead vehicle. The thugs pull aside the barricade to let the convoy pass. Hunter breathes a sigh of relief at the first obstacle being removed. He just hopes they have enough booty to bribe everyone.
While his presence might be good for intimidation, the Harrier might also make some of these goons a little too nervous. Hunter decides to set down at the airport for a quick refuel and reloading. He has his own small bag of booty to use as barter for the fuel and some 25mm shells. It takes just about everything he has for both, especially the ammunition.
While he waits, he finds a bar to get a drink. He promised Casey he would look out for her and yet here he is, miles away while she faces a bunch of armed gangs. He tries to tell himself that Trip and Wayne are there to protect her and the others. Wayne might not be much good in a fight, but Trip is more than capable of handling himself if things turn ugly.
As he’s sipping his glass of bourbon, someone taps his shoulder. He tenses, figuring it’s someone to pick a fight, but then he sees mousy little Alice from the Hub. “Is it Alice here?” he asks. “Or are you using your other name?”
“You see a wig?” she asks.
“So what are you doing here?”
“I came to find you.”
“Why?”
“Let’s go over to the corner.” She leads him to a booth that’s more duct tape than original vinyl.
“How did you know I was here?”
“It’s my job to know things,” she says. She leans forward to whisper, “You shouldn’t be here. Utopia has put a big reward out on you.”
“I can imagine.”
“Most of the guys here would kill their own mother for a gold coin and they’re offering ten bars of it for the one who can bring you in—dead or alive.”
“Are you here to collect?”
“No. I’m just saying the sooner you’re out of here, the better.”
“It shouldn’t be too long,” he says. “I’m just getting some gas and ammo.”
“You better make sure that’s all there is. Wouldn’t want someone tracking you again.”
“You heard about that?”
“I told you: it’s my job to know things. What are you even doing here?”
“Let me ask you something: You ever hear of a Facility X?”
“Just rumors that it’s some hidden staging area for the military. Why?”
“That’s where we’re going. I’ve got a bunch of civilians to take there. We’re hoping it’ll be safer for them there.”
“Well, good luck with that.”
“You don’t think it’ll work?”
“I’m not sure they’ll be very welcoming, wherever they are.”
“We’ll have to take our chances. Unless you got a better idea.”
“Not really. Not where Utopia couldn’t find you. They are seriously pissed at you guys.”
“Good.”
“Stop being so cavalier about it fo
r a minute, would you? They’re out to get you and right now they’re the biggest bully on the block. You better watch yourself.”
“I’ll try.” He smiles at her. “Thanks for the warning.”
“Not that you’ll heed it, right?”
“After I get these people somewhere safe, then we’ll worry about Utopia. We’ve got an ace up our sleeves, something to make it a little more of a fair fight.”
“What’s that?”
“You’ll find out. At least I hope so.” He nods to her and then gets to his feet. “You could come with us.”
“No thanks. I’m doing fine here.”
“It was just a thought.”
As Hunter nears the door to the bar a guy almost a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier gets in his way. “You’re that guy, ain’t you? The Sky Ghost. I saw your plane on the runway.”
“If you want an autograph, I didn’t bring a pen.”
“I want to rip your head off and take it to Utopia,” the man growls.
Though it’s not very sporting, Hunter kicks the bigger man between the legs as hard as he can. When the giant doubles over, Hunter knees him in the face. He reaches for his sidearm to point it back towards the bar. “Anyone else?” No one volunteers.
Hunter backs out of the bar and then hurries to his plane. It’s refueled and the ammunition is reading as full. He makes sure to check for any tracking devices though before he leaves. Fool me once, he thinks to himself as he takes off.
Chapter 30
Hunter meets the convoy a few miles north of Mile High. He sets down on the highway so he can check up on them. “It’s all good,” Trip says. “We ain’t got much money left, but they didn’t hassle us too much.”
“Good. It’ll be dark in a couple of hours. Let’s make camp in Cheyenne for the night and then we’ll go on in the morning.”
“Sounds like a good idea,” Wayne says. “You think we can make it tomorrow?”
“So long as we don’t run into too much trouble.”
“That’s always the problem,” Trip says.
Army of the Damned (Sky Ghost #1) Page 27